“I am so sorry!” she gasped. “What is the matter with me? Auntie’s very well, she always is, you know. Now tell me all about yourself, every little last thing.”
“Place aux dames, my dear young lady! You will have a grreat deal of news to tell me, I am sure.”
“Oh no! I’ve no news, except that I’m bored—terribly bored with London. Now come, begin! First of all—how is the ‘system’?”
She leant forward, in an attitude of correct listening with a perfectly grave face.
Nielsen spread his fingers, and then gave his moustache a prolonged twist.
“Ah! rien ne va plus! That is all over,” he said mournfully, with a little shake of his head. “I am quite lost without it. Mais que voulez-vous? My uncle dies—I told you of him—my uncle—did I not?—ah! the good old fellow! He leaves me a little—but yes, a little fortune. Can one go on playing a ‘system’? One has one’s brread and butter.” He spread his fingers again. “It is inconceivable, don’t you know.”
“That’s very good news, I’m so glad!”
Nielsen shrugged his shoulders gently, his head a little on one side.
“It gives me the good fortune to see you again,” he said, “but for the rrest, I am not sure. It was a verry good ‘system’; and now, you know, I have nothing to do. I am not used to that.”
Jocelyn smiled, the death of the “system” amused her. “I don’t think you will be idle long,” she said, “you are busy by nature.”